


Baby Blues

by WhatTheHanz



Category: DBZ - Fandom, Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Super, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Android Saga, Cell Saga, Depression, Explicit Language, F/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Illness, Motherhood, Three Year Gap, Vegebul, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15372480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheHanz/pseuds/WhatTheHanz
Summary: Bulma has always excelled at everything she puts her mind to, but when motherhood proves to be more than she expected, Vegeta is the one who must pull her back form the breaking point.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma has always excelled at everything she puts her mind to. But when motherhood proves to be more than she expected, Vegeta is the one who must pull her back from the breaking point.

As he prepared to retire from his day of training, Vegeta tilted his head to the side, catching the faint noises of crying somewhere on the Capsule Corp compound. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the distant sobs. Occasionally as he left for the night, he would hear them outside of the Gravity Room as he returned to his quarters. But tonight, the weeping seemed particularly haggard. After a moment’s consideration, and a phantom twitch of his tail, Vegeta began tracking the noise to its source.

He arrived under the balcony of the woman’s- _Bulma!_ -he corrected himself. Vegeta supposed that after conceiving a half breed with her, he should use her name  more. The Saiyan remained outside for a few more moments listening, but it seemed as if she was getting a hold of herself and the tears had subdued into hiccups. Vegeta hesitated and debated checking on her. But the pathetic hiccups had stopped, so he assumed Bulma must have fallen asleep. _Probably one of her silly nightmares,_ he decided as he headed towards his own room.

Still, as he showered and laid down in his bed, the cadence of the crying lingered in his mind. It had seemed particularly despondent. _Was that normal?_ he thought. Vegeta was not familiar with Earthling parenting practices and hadn’t really bothered to learn them, opting to focus on his training and impending battle with the androids.

Letting his thoughts wander, Vegeta could feel the heat radiating from his face, neck and chest as he remembered returning from space after finally ascending. Bulma, who never questioned his ability, had been particularly exbruent at his achievement. Already an attractive woman, her excitement and the lingering high from finally reaching Super Saiyan had led to some...interesting consequences.

Despite his efforts to suppress the memories, in his mind he saw flashes from that night and several after. Skin that was luminescent in the starlight, turquoise hair spilled across his pillow, pink lips swollen from passionate kissing, the primal smells, and her voice as she called his name in staccato and scratched his back…

 _Enough!_ Vegeta scolded himself, taking deep breaths to reign his body back under control. After a few more indulgent dalliances with the woman, he had returned his focus to training. He recalled the shame he felt when she had told him she was carrying the child. He was no better than Kakarot, fraternizing with these weaklings and even begetting a mongrel child.

One day through a video chat, Bulma had hesitantly asked him if he wanted to come with her to the doctor for the baby’s check up. He had terminated the communication channel between her lab and the GR and bunked in it for the next week. After that, she hadn’t asked him again.

Vegeta had sought to bury his indignity and anger under even more intense training, ignoring the activities at the compound even more than before. At some point Bulma’s fool hardy mother, Bunny, had knocked rhythmically on the GR door until he threw it open.  “Oh Vegeta honey! The baby is coming! Do you want to come to the hospital with us?” the blonde woman had asked in her typical sing-song way of speaking. Vegeta grunted a no, and she had tottered off on her high heels with giggle and a quick comment about how old fashioned he was.

Several days later, he wasn’t sure how many had passed, the same rhythmic knocking interrupted him, making him lose count of his push ups. With a snarl, Vegeta had wrenched the door open to the GR, and there stood the blonde woman and Bulma with something bundled in her arms. The blonde looked the same as always, but Bulma was noticeably pale and her hair hung in greasy twists.

“Vegeta honey, meet your son!” Bunny exclaimed. Bulma tipped the bundle forward some, revealing a scrunched, red face.

“His name is Trunks,” the new mother said quietly.

Vegeta issued a noise of acknowledgement, almost asking why the kid was so ugly, but thinking better of it. An awkward pause followed, broken only when Bunny happily said, “Well honey, you finish up in here! I’m going to get Bulma and my grandbaby all settled in, and you come visit then!” The Saiyan made some affirmative noise, which made Bunny smile even more if that was possible, and then shut the door.

That had been the last time he’d seen Bulma or his bastard son.

Vegeta questioned if maybe he should have followed Bulma’s mother’s instructions and seen her later that day. He resolved to ask her tomorrow how Bulma was, and with that, he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, Vegeta went to the kitchen for breakfast about 45 minutes than earlier. He very rarely took meals with the Briefs, but Bunny always left him a large plate of whatever they had eaten. From the doorway he could see Bulma’s parents. Dr. Briefs was drinking that vile coffee beverage while reading the paper, and Bunny was happily looking at a shiny book of clothes while chattering away to no one in particular.

Awkwardly, Vegeta stepped into the kitchen, standing in the threshold until Bunny noticed him with a happy exclamation of surprise. “Oh Vegeta honey! You’re up early! Come sit down and I’ll make up your plate!” She patted the chair next to her before getting up and busying herself at the counter.

Reluctantly, he took the offered seat. Dr. Briefs stopped his reading long enough to give him a nod of acknowledgement and resumed scouring the paper. In a moment, Bulma’s mother placed a plate that precariously balanced pancakes, eggs, bacon, rice, and various fruits in front of him. While he ate, Bunny directed her chatter at him, and seemed to have no qualms that Vegeta never responded.

Dr. Briefs folded the paper and began rustling in his lab coat pocket for his post-breakfast cigarette. From the few times he had dined with the family, Vegeta knew this usually signalled the end of the meal. Vegeta quickly shoveled the last pancake in his mouth and blurted, “Uh, has Bulma been alright?”

Dr. Briefs paused and Bunny stopped in the middle of picking up his plate. “What do you mean, honey? Of course she’s okay!” she answered.

Vegeta cleared his throat and reluctantly explained, “I...I heard crying from her room last night.”

“Oh! She’s just got the weepies! You know how it is for new moms,” she explained as she resumed taking his plate to the sink, like it was supposed to make any sense to him.

“What are the ‘weepies’?”

Dr. Briefs cleared his throat and cut off his wife, “After a woman gives birth, her body is overloaded by hormones, resulting in mood swings. Bulma’s just adjusting to the change.”

Bunny shot as close to a glare as her perpetual cheery face could muster at her husband and then returned her attention to Vegeta, “Sure, all that. And you know she’s hurting from the tear. Poor thing can’t take the _good stuff_ while she’s nursing.”

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably and felt a spike of embarrassment as he asked dumbly, “The tear?”

What would have been a perfectly sterile and biological explanation from Dr. Briefs was overpowered by Bunny tittering before loudly speaking over her husband, “You silly goose Vegeta, you know how big your boy was! He tore poor Bulma from V to A!”

Vegeta’s and. Dr. Brief’s face reddened together. With an obviously fake clearing of his throat, the older man stood and announced, “Wonderful breakfast, Bunny. I’ll have a long day with my work and covering Bulma’s projects while she’s on leave.” He kissed Bunny on the cheek, nodded at Vegeta, and left. Vegeta followed in his wake, leaving the woman to do whatever she did to fill her time.

That day in the GR, the Saiyan’s mind was preoccupied with Bulma. Between his warm ups and annihilating battlebots, which he was beginning to run low on, he determined that if he heard the crying tonight, he would go to Bulma’s room and check on her. And maybe ask her for some more bots while he was there.

***

**AN:**

This is the first fanfic I've written in about 10 years, so hopefully it's not too rusty. 

As for the timeline, I couldn't remember exactly when Vegeta went Super Saiyan. I've been fandom trash for about 20 (very) odd years, and I tried to look it up and somehow there were conflicting dates across sites. In the end, I just went with celebratory sex and a lapse in judgement leading to Trunks' conception. 

At some point across dubs and subs, I could swear that Bulma's parents were named Trunks and Bunny and Bulma names her son after her father. In my head, Vegeta respects Dr. Briefs enough to know his title and use it, but doesn't bother to learn his actual first name. It takes him quite some time to realize the connection.  


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later, sweaty and pleasantly aching from training, Vegeta stood outside, listening for the tell tale crying. Satisfied the night was peaceful, he began the walk to his room. After a few steps, the bawling began. He sighed a little and adjusted his course to Bulma’s room.

Upon arriving at her balcony, he leapt up and landed on it with a cat’s grace. He approached the glass doors and knocked lightly. The crying suddenly stopped, followed up a confused, “Uh...hello?”

“Wo-Bulma, it’s me,” he answered.

“Oh Vegeta, um, I guess you can come in? It’s kind of messy…” her voice trailed off as Vegeta opened the door and stepped into her room.

He’d been in her living quarters on very few occasions, and it had always been the controlled chaos of someone with too many thoughts. Stacks of notebooks with scribbled ideas and sketches, old coffee mugs all over, books piled in random places, but its current state was far worse. There were mounds of dirty clothes and soiled cloths, used tissues littered the floor between precarious mountains of dirty dishes.

There was an overpowering stench of feces, urine, stale sweat, and the faint saltiness of tears. Bile rose at the back of his throat as he looked for Bulma in the dump. He finally spotted her sitting on the floor next to an elevated wooden cage. She jumped to her feet, trying to wipe away the tears while smiling weakly and asking, “What brings you here, Vegeta?”

“I heard you crying and came to check. What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded.

“Oh you heard that? How embarrassing!” Bulma blushed and covered her tear streaked cheeks with her hands. He watched as she forced a bigger smile. “Do you want to see the baby? But keep your voice down, he’s sleeping.” Before he could respond, Bulma grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the cage. “Isn’t he sweet?” she cooed.

Vegeta gave a cursory glance at the baby. He was relieved to see that it was no longer pinched and ugly. Instead, the baby, Trunks, he reminded himself, had the same light coloring as his mother, excluding rosy cheeks, and had a shock of purple hair.

“Yes, yes, that’s very nice, but Bulma, it smells like literal shit in here,” Vegeta admonished, turning his eyes back to her face. “And why were you crying?”

Bulma flapped her hand at him, “Oh, that’s the Diaper Genie! I’ve been tired and haven’t changed it yet.” Vegeta looked at the tall, slim container Bulma pointed at and saw the lid could barely close over the filth inside. He rolled his eyes at the woman and stepped towards the disgusting thing, before realizing he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He could see it had a plastic lining like the other garbage containers, but he didn’t know where the waste went. The cleaning bots or Bunny always took it away and did something.

With a huff and a suppressed gag, he pushed the excess refuse down and yanked the bag out. Stepping around the various filth piles, he walked back out to the balcony. With a toss, he threw the bag in the air and blasted it.

Vegeta returned to Bulma, who seemed unsure of whether to laugh or lecture him, and with crossed arms asked, “There, it’s done. Now, why were you crying? Are you injured still?”

“Injured?”

“Yes, your mother total me you sustained wounds. Something tore?”

“Christ, mother,” Bulma muttered, rolling her eyes. “It’s fine, almost healed. Trunks has a big head like his father.”

Vegeta squinted at her, but let the jibe pass. “Then why are you crying?” he softly demanded.

“I’m just tired, Vegeta. It’s fine,” she answered, turning away from him. With the movement, he got a fresh whiff of stale sweat. Looking closer, he finally noticed Bulma’s stained oversized shirt and shorts, and that her hair was dull and lank.

“You stink, Bulma. When was the last time you cleaned yourself?”

“Well fuck Vegeta, you don’t smell like a spring rain yourself!” she hissed at him. Finally, she conceded, “It’s...been a few days. I’ve been preoccupied.”

“You’re not preoccupied now, go bathe,” Vegeta ordered.

“Oh yeah? Who’s going to watch Trunks, then, huh? Surely not his father.”

“Bulma, he’s asleep. But if it gets you to bathe that awful stench away, I will stay,” he responded sternly. He could see her open her mouth as if to argue more, but instead, she huffed out a sigh.

Bulma moved towards the bathroom, lifting her shirt as she walked. While her arms were suspended over her head, he could see the swell of her breasts from behind. Have those gotten bigger? he wondered. But before his thoughts could go too far into lust territory, Vegeta saw the shadows between her ribs. Without thinking, he closed the gap between them and grabbed her wrist.

“What now?” she whispered at him, voice edgy.

“Are you eating?” he asked, trying to keep his own tone neutral.

Bulma glared at him and pointed to her breasts, a devious smirk crossing her face as he quickly looked up, “Still, Vegeta? You’ve seen them enough times. But he eats a lot. Everything goes here as milk. It’s normal.” With that, she quickly removed her shorts and threw the bundle at him. “Watch the baby!” she whispered sharply one more time, before closing the bathroom door. After a moment, Vegeta could hear the shower turn on.

Not sure what to do with the stinking bundle of clothes Bulma had given him, Vegeta looked around before adding them to a pile on the floor. Navigating through the mess, he made it back to Bulma’s bed and sat on it, looking between the cage bars at the sleeping baby.

He realized he was disappointed that Trunks didn’t look more like him. Although some of his features were definitely similar to Vegeta’s, he looked too much like an Earthling with that hair. Even Kakarot’s brat had kept his father’s dark Saiyan coloring.

Vegeta scooted to the very edge of the bed, getting as close to the baby as he could, and inhaled deeply. Now that he had acclimated to the garbage in the room, he could pick Trunks’ unique scent; a mix between something powdery, a hint of sour, sleepy sweat, and a pleasant sweetness. Curious, Vegeta crawled quietly across the short distance and pressed his face against the baby cage, taking a deep breath to get as much of the smell as possible.

Trunks eyes snapped open. Slightly crossed at first, they quickly focused on Vegeta. Trunks opened his mouth and released a bellow that startled Vegeta enough that he jumped, smashing his back into the frame of the bed. From the bathroom he could hear an angry yell.

The bathroom door flew open and steam rushed out. Bulma charged across the room, knocking over piles as she went. Vegeta braced for her to begin yelling at him, the words, “I didn’t do anything!” already forming on his tongue. Instead, Bulma, her voice tight with strain, picked up Trunks and asked him, “What is it now? What could it possibly be now!?” Trunks cried harder in response.

“See! I can’t leave him alone!” Bulma’s eyes were beginning to fill with tears again. Vegeta considered pointing out that she had been in the shower for over 30 minutes without issue, but decided to keep his mouth closed instead as the last bit of composure left the woman.

Sobbing hysterically, Bulma uncovered a breast from the towel and popped it into Trunks’ mouth, silencing the child. Vegeta thought the weeping might stop now that the baby was quiet, but her body continued to shake and cry.

“Bulma?” he asked tentatively.

“Go away, Vegeta,” the woman rasped.

Vegeta left without another word. The rest of the night, the image of Bulma’s discouraged form hovered in his mind’s eye.

***

**AN:**

This is fic is complete, I just want to make readers suffer. There's two chapters left, and they'll be posted in the next two weeks.

Thank you to everyone who left a kudo. It's really motivating and encouraging :)


	3. Chapter Three

Vegeta joined the Briefs again for breakfast. He was certain that something was wrong with Bulma and would tell her ridiculous mother as much.

As he sat down at the table, Bunny could barely contain her excitement. “Oh Vegeta honey, two days in a row! I’m glad you’re starting to feel less shy with us, you silly thing!” she said happily. The blonde placed another impossibly overloaded plate in front of him. The Saiyan began to open his mouth to speak, but she continued, “Y’know, you got me all worried about Bulma when you said you heard crying. I talked to her this morning, and she said that Trunks has just been a little colicky and that’s what you must have heard. Such a good daddy to care so much though!”

Before Bunny could say anything else, Vegeta interjected, “Then you saw her room?”

“Oh that? Bulma’s always been a messy girl! She gets it from her father. They can design a spaceship but can’t find the laundry basket to save their lives. I offered to tidy up for her, but she said she’d take care of it while Trunks napped. She’s been so busy with that baby!”

Vegeta glared at his sausage, but didn’t say anything else. The meal continued similar to yesterday’s, with Dr. Briefs reading in between bites and Bunny looking at another shiny paged book and sharing comments out loud. Although her mother seemed to think Bulma was fine, he was positive she had lied to the woman. To say Bunny was oblivious was being too kind.

As Vegeta rose from the table Bunny gasped, “Oh! I just remembered! You know Vegeta honey, if you’re so worried about Bulma, you should go with her to her check up today. That will put your mind at ease!”

“Check up?”

“Yes, Bulma and baby Trunks will see the doctor at two this afternoon.”

Vegeta offered something that was almost a thank you and left. He could still get in a few exercises before the appointment.

That afternoon, Vegeta was waiting for Bulma by her bulbous vehicle. He observed that she looked markedly different from yesterday. Her clothes were clean and fitted, and she had even gone as far to style her hair and make up her face. He was positive the whole look was part of the charade. “Vegeta, what are you doing here?” she asked, shifting Trunks’ weight to her other hip.

“I’m going with you,” he responded, trying to not roll his eyes at the obvious question.

“Why? Is this because of last night? I told you, everything is fine, I’m just tired,” Bulma replied with exasperation. Vegeta didn’t say anything else, he just kept staring at her. Finally, the woman gave in and with an eye roll of her own, she told him to get in the car while she put Trunks in his seat. 

They didn’t speak while Bulma drove. Vegeta hated being in her round contraptions, feeling too much like his time traveling on missions for Frieza. For her part, Bulma radiated tension and annoyance, and pointedly ignored Vegeta. Trunks had fallen asleep almost as soon as the vehicle had started moving, which had relieved the Saiyan. He didn’t want to hear a repeat performance of the child’s impressive lung capacity.

At the doctor’s office, Vegeta did his best to lurk menacingly in the waiting room. The assistants reminded him of Bunny, cheery and ready to talk to anyone. Bulma ignored him and fussed with Trunks.

Finally, Bulma’s name was called to go to an exam room. Bulma took a seat and Vegeta leaned against the wall, wondering how much longer this whole check up would take. As his temper was reaching peak annoyance, there was a short rapt on the door and then a plump woman in a white jacket entered, sitting down at a small desk in the room.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Briefs, Trunks. Who is our guest, today?” The woman asked, meeting Vegeta’s glare with one of the most no-nonsense expressions he’d ever seen. Vegeta looked away first, marveling over the authority this particular Earth woman radiated. Only Bulma had ever cowed him into submission before.

“He’s Trunks’ father, Vegeta,” Bulma answered with only the slightest shake in her voice. She was nervous, and he could smell the sharp tang as she started to sweat slightly.

“Trunks’ father, you say?”

“Ah yes, as you can tell, he’s a bodybuilder-competitively, actually! He was traveling for competitions for most of my pregnancy,” Bulma explained and then laughed in an octave slightly too high to be natural.

“Hn,” the doctor responded, clearly not believing a word, before taking Trunks from his mother. She measured, weighed, and prodded the child, making notes all the while. “Now Bulma,” the stern woman began while returning the baby to her, “while Trunks is clearly thriving, you’re tired and you’ve lost weight.” Vegeta was pleased it was a statement and not a question. He caught Bulma’s eye and gave her a victorious smirk. Bulma smoldered at him for a flash before returning her attention to the doctor.

“Oh well, Trunks just eats so much! It’s hard to keep up with him sometimes. And we’re still getting on a sleep schedule.”

“Hn. Well, we’ll get you on a supplement. Now, have you been feeling particularly sad? Crying a lot?” the woman asked. 

“No,” Bulma replied smoothly. Vegeta shot her a suspicious look at the lie.

“Eating normally?”

“Yes.” _No._

“Isolating yourself?”

“No.” _Yes._

“Over or under sleeping?”

“No.” _None._

“Feeling anxious?”

“No.” _Lie._

“Hn. Well, if anything changes, here is my emergency number as well as a prescription for those supplements. The receptionist will schedule your next follow up.” The doctor stood up, and then added, “Mr. Vegeta, if you notice any changes, please contact my office.”

Before he could respond, Bulma had stood up suddenly, cheerily calling as the physician left, “Oh of course doctor! Thank you and have a good day!”

Vegeta trailed behind Bulma, silently seething the entire time. When they finally reached her car, he snapped, “What in the fuck was that, Bulma?”

“What?” she asked with feigned nonchalance, sliding into the vehicle.

“All of that was a lie,” he growled at her.

“No, it wasn’t. I’m completely _fine_ , Vegeta. I’m a genius with so many PhDs and doctorates I’ve stopped framing them, I run the most innovative company on the planet, I’ve proved legends to be real, traveled through space, and survived alien attacks. Raising a baby isn’t anything I can’t handle,” Bulma responded primly and started the car.

They drove back to Capsule Corp in utter silence. As soon as they stopped, Vegeta practically tore the door off in his urgency to get away from the deceptive woman. He had wasted his time worrying about the absurd woman.  
As he approached the Gravity Room, he remembered, _I forgot to ask her for more battlebots._  

**AN:** _  
_

This chapter was pretty close to my heart to write. Although I don't have children and have therefore never experienced postpartum depression, I do have have bad anxiety and depression. It took me way too long to start treatment because of how high functioning I was. I had worked during college and still graduated with honors. I had decent jobs and was able to support myself. As I got older, I was able to buy a house and my weekends started including more social events and lots of volunteer activities.

I totally ignored the times when I shut down and didn't leave my bed at all. That I was often overwhelmed and anxious over trivial matters. That I was having panic attacks and just powering my through them. That my was sleeping was erratic and I was increasingly losing interest in hobbies like drawing, writing, listening to music, etc. 

I ignored everything because my chronic depression and anxiety didn't look like the major episode I had in 2009 where I would sit in a dark closet, self medicating with whatever I could get my hands on, not eating, barely sleeping, crying randomly, and rapidly losing weight. 

It took YEARS and lots of encouragement from friends and loved ones to take my own advice and start treatment. 

Keep an eye on the people you hold dear. 


	4. Chapter Four

Vegeta threw himself into his former routine for the next few weeks. He avoided Bulma’s parents and resumed eating whatever leftovers Bunny set aside for him. The Saiyan ate breakfast after everyone had left the kitchen for the day and shoveled dinner into his mouth long after they had retired for bed. Whenever he left the GR, he made a point to rush to his rooms, even going as far as plugging his ears some nights. 

Overall, Vegeta felt like he was on track. He was growing stronger and he was sure he could kill the androids, defeat Kakarot, and then he would probably leave this backwater planet. His one complaint was that he had run out of bots to fight against over a week ago, but he would be damned if he was going to talk to that insufferable woman again. 

As he walked towards his room, he saw something in the darkness move. Shifting into a battle stance and readying himself to blast whatever it was, Vegeta chuckled at himself as Dr. Brief’s cat emerged from the bushes. He couldn’t recall what idiotic name they had given the poor beast, but of all the Briefs, this was the one that he almost liked. Checking to make sure no one was around, he knelt down to scratch the dumb animal.  

The cat made a pleasant, small rumbling noise against his hand. He gave it one final pat on it’s raised rump when something else caught his attention. 

Not movement this time, but a noise. Something akin to a scream that had been smothered. He took off hard enough to knock over the cat and flew to Bulma’s balcony. 

When he landed, he could tell sense that something was wrong. This time he didn’t bother knocking and opted to slam his shoulder into the locked door, popping it open easily. 

If Bulma’s room been bad before, it looked like an explosion had gone off this time. He wasn’t sure how one woman could have so much crap, but it seemed as if every single item she owned was dirty and on the floor. The lamp lay in pieces on the floor. The smell was somehow even worse and he fought his gag reflex as he stepped into the room. 

“Bulma?” he called softly.

There was no response, but he could see a light on in the bathroom. He could make out muttering in that direction, and proceeded forward. Vegeta was not prepared for what he found. 

Bulma had made some sort of rat’s nest of towels and dirty clothes against the bathtub. She sat in it, cradling a weakly crying Trunks to her chest and sobbing, “Trunks, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I could do it, but I can’t...I can’t anymore. Those androids will be doing you a favor when they kill me. ”

If she knew he was there, Bulma didn’t acknowledge him. He knelt down next to her, and could see that had scratched and bit her upper arms until they were bloody. Her eyes were far away and unseeing.  He tried again, softly saying her name, “Bulma…”

Her head snapped towards him. “What do you want? Go away, Vegeta.” Gently, Vegeta removed Trunks from her arms. 

“Bulma, you’re not okay.”

“I’m fucking fine!” she hissed at him. “Give me my son back!” She scrambled towards him, but Vegeta placed a forearm across her chest, shifting the arm holding the baby behind him. When Vegeta didn’t comply, she spit on his face. 

The Saiyan’s temper briefly flared, but he reminded himself the woman before him was unwell. “Bulma,” he began calmly, “do you know what’s happening?”

“Everything is fine, you ass! Give Trunks back and fuck off.” 

“Bulma, when was the last time the baby ate?”

His question seemed to defuse some of her rage. Her eyes focused some as she began to look around, “Vegeta, where’s Trunks?”

“I’m holding him, Bulma. Can you feed him?” 

“Of course I can feed him,” she replied, wiping at her eyes and reaching forward. Carefully, Vegeta put the infant back into her arms. Bulma lifted her shirt and, showing that there may be some Saiyan in him after all, Trunks eagerly latched on. 

Bulma looked away from him. “You can leave now, Vegeta,” she said softly. He didn’t even bother to respond to her. 

Time passed uncomfortably, as neither spoke and Trunks nursed. The baby finally seemed to have his fill, letting his mouth fall open as a trail of milk spilled from his lips. Bulma lifted him to her shoulder and patted his back. Vegeta raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t appear to be hurting him. Finally, the child burped. Apparently that’s what Bulma had been waiting for and she lowered him back down to her chest. 

Gently but firmly, Vegeta removed the baby from Bulma’s arms again and stood. There was no protesting, swearing, or spitting this time. Awkwardly he tucked the child under one arm. With the other, he reached down and pulled Bulma to her feet. She refused to make eye contact with him. 

“Bulma,” he said, breaking the quiet tension. “You really smell.”

With a rusty laugh, she responded, “You’re no spring rain either.” 

“Bulma, can you take a shower?” he asked. He knew she would understand that he had meant,  _ Can I trust you to take a shower?  _

“Yeah, that would probably be...good. But Vegeta, you’re holding the baby wrong.”

“No I’m not.”

“Vegeta, he’s not a football…”

“Is he crying? Am I hurting him somehow?”

“Well, no…”

“Then I’m not holding him wrong. Now get in the shower. The door stays open.” 

Vegeta left the bathroom as Bulma turned the shower on and began to remove her clothes. He looked around at the ground zero her bedroom had become. Luckily, besides a few dirty shirts, Trunks’ cage appeared to be fine. He removed the soiled items and awkwardly set the child down in his bed. 

While Bulma showered, he entered her ridiculously oversized closet and began loading up the multiple hampers with the clothes that were strewn all over the room. The hampers were labeled with words like “lights,” “darks,” “delicates,” “jeans,” and so forth. He ignored them, thinking the correct label should simply be, “fucking dirty.” 

With that task completed, he checked on Trunks. The baby was still sleeping, with soft snores escaping his mouth periodically. Not wanting to wake the brat again, Vegeta entered the bathroom and called softly, “Bulma?”

“All good, tough guy. I just...really want to soak. I feel filthy.”

Vegeta muttered to himself, “...say that again…” As he left, he thought he heard Bulma hiss something insulting back. He smiled to himself. She hadn’t lost all her fire, at least. 

Next, he began to round up the plates, various bits of trash, and the dirty diapers. Filling all of the linings from the diaper djinn or whatever the hell she had called it, he hulled them to the balcony and one by one threw them the in the air, blasting each one. For a few moments, he enjoyed the spectacle. 

His task completed, Vegeta stepped back into the bedroom. Bulma was sitting on the bed, her normally turquoise hair a wet, dark blue against her scalp. She was wearing an excessively fluffy robe that made her look the cat when it was startled. He sat on the edge of her bed. 

“Vegeta, do you know where the dumpster bins are?” she asked him.

With a raised eyebrow he retorted, “Do I need to?”

They sat in silence for a few moments. “Vegeta…” she trailed off. From the corner of his eye he could see she was starting to cry again. He grunted in acknowledgement. “I think I need to go to the doctor. I don’t know what happened tonight. I could have hurt Trunks or...I don’t know, even worse.” She paused before asking, “Will you go with me tomorrow?”

Vegeta considered for a moment, before answering, “Only if you make me more battlebots when you’re done.”

**AN:**  
  
Ah, Bulma's break down and admittance of help. This scene had a few revisions. Initially, I based Bulma's behavior off of my sister's PPD, which was most often tear filled and _angry_ (and downright scaryat times). But, my lovely beta reader pointed out that Bulma was more insecure and feeling inadequate about being a parent. 

Thank you for everyone who read this, hopefully a few people enjoyed it, and left kudos or comments.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first effort at writing fan fiction in over 10 years. Hopefully, it's not too rusty and someone enjoys it!


End file.
